Take Care
by Avenue Potter
Summary: Someone somewhere asked for a Rollisi Hurt/Comfort fic. I seem to be in the shippy/fluffy zone for them right now, which is odd for me since I freakin love tragedy . . . But anyway, here's my take on a literal translation of "hurt/comfort." Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One: Dinner**

"It doesn't hurt."

"Carisi, stop."

She comes up behind him, removes the hand that had been grasping his back and replaces it with her own. He groans a bit and then she takes the wooden spoon from his other hand.

"Amanda, I'm fine," he says and reaches to grab the spoon back from her which elicits an involuntary moan from him.

"No, you're not," she says seriously and points at her couch, "Go lay down."

"I've got this Rollins," he says, yet the crinkles around his eyes betray the wince he's trying to hold back.

"No, I've got this."

"What, you suddenly know how to make chicken marsala?"

"You can instruct me."

He points to the couch, "From over there?"

"Yeah."

"But I just put the flour in there, it needs to be constantly stirred to make sure the sauce doesn't –"

"Carisi, I'll handle it. Now shoo."

She turns her back on him to face the stove, touches a dial, and mumbles quietly, "Now what do I do with this . . .?"

"I heard that," she hears him say as he hobbles to the other room. She hears him moaning again as he settles himself on the couch.

"That sounds bad."

"Yeah, it is," he breathes through a groan.

At the sound of sizzling Amanda jumps away from the stove. "What do I do? What do I do?"

"Let me help you," Carisi says and tries to get up off of the couch.

"No!" she stops him. "You can tell me from over there. Alleviating that pain of yours is more important than some lousy meal."

"It's only going to be lousy because you're cooking it."

"Haha," she says dryly and looks back at the stove. "What a mess."

"That's cause you're letting the water boil over. Take the pan off of the burner, it's too hot."

She looks around for some kind of mitt since the hot water is streaming down the handle, too.

"Carisi, where is –"

He chuckles. She doesn't even know her own kitchen.

"The wall to the right of the stove."

"Got it." She gets the big pan off the burner and tries to wipe up some of the water that has gotten all over.

But then she sees the congealing brown mess in the small saucepan.

"Now what do I do with this?" she mutters picking it up off the stove, swirling it around and poking at it with the wooden spoon. There are gelatinous clumps in the sauce that pop open to reveal a white powder when poked. "Eeew."

"Eeew is right. I told you I was in the middle of something."

"Can it be fixed?"

"Not likely, unless you want to start from scratch. But hey, at least the chicken's done. Let's just put all of this mess together and see how bad you did."

She drains the pasta from the big pan, puts it on a couple of plates and tops it with the chicken. She makes an incredibly disgusted face as she spoons the "mushroom" sauce globules on top.

"Okay, dinner's ready. But before we start, it's time we take care of YOU."

"Okay."

She heads back to the bathroom to grab a heating pad and a bottle of pills.

When she returns to the living room she finds him with his eyes shut tight in a grimace.

"Hey there," she says quietly, rubbing his arm.

He opens his eyes. "Yeah, I guess I gotta break down and admit it - this is a bad one."

"Well, I've got something for your pain. And I've got your best friend here," she says wiggling the heating pad.

"Yeah, gimme that."

She plugs it in and helps him to sit up so that she can place it under his back. Again, more involuntary groaning.

"Carisi, this is really bad. You should tell the Sarge. . ."

"Nah, I'll be fine," he says as she gently helps to lower him back down on the couch.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was just a random sucker punch to my kidney. It will heal. Just give it time." He grins.

"Okay . . ." she says with doubt.

"Hey look, I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, and I know how to cook."

"We'll see about that."

"Let me get you some water for these pills first."

"Those aren't my muscle relaxants are they?"

"No, just Alleve. Wouldn't want you to lose control of your motor skills too fast and spill food all over yourself."

"That's not going to happen anyway." He gives her a sly look.

Amanda shakes her head and walks back to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water.

"Hey Rollins?" Carisi says from the couch.

"Yeah?"

"You know you're going to have to feed me."

She shuts off the tap and returns with the glass of water to the living room, ready to give him a sarcastic reply. But then she stands there and really looks at him for a bit before shaking her head. "You're right. I don't want to move you off that heating pad by making you sit up. It does wonders for you."

"So like I said, you'll have to feed me." He gives her a seductive grin.

"Yeah, it's not like that, Carisi."

"Awww," he whines and she hands him two pills.

"Head up." She lifts just his head, bringing the rim of the glass to his mouth after he pops the pills into it.

He swallows.

"Good boy," she says.

"Hey, I'm not a dog here. Just an injured man."

Amanda chuckles as she heads back to the kitchen to grab the plates of dinner she had slopped together. She opens a drawer, meaning to get two sets of silverware but then realizes she doesn't have to. If she'll be feeding him herself why get two more utensils dirty? She only needs a fork and a knife. She grabs one of each and heads back the couch, setting the plates on the coffee table.

Then she sits down on the floor in front of the couch and picks up a fork. "Ready to give this a whirl?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready for your cooking Rollins."

She tips her head to the side and looks at him sardonically, "You made most of it."

"Yeah, but I saw you butcher the rest."

"Are you gonna go hungry, or eat my food?"

"Well when you put it that way . . . "

"That's what I thought."

She cuts off a piece of chicken with that brown goo on it and spears some pieces of pasta onto the fork too for good measure. She turns towards him and waits for him to open his mouth. He's there with a mock grimace on his face shaking head with his mouth closed, avoiding the fork.

"You're as bad as Jesse."

He laughs and that gives her the opportunity to get the fork in.

He chews a little bit, contemplating. After he swallows he says, "That tastes like shit Rollins."

"Thanks."

"No taste it. It's really bad."

She gives him a nasty look but proceeds to take a bite for herself. The pasta is crunchy, a lump of mushroom goo pops chalky powder into her mouth, and it takes all of her will just to swallow this mess down with a straight face.

Then she says to Carisi, "Well at least the chicken is cooked."

"Yeah, I did that part." He stares down at her. "Do you think I would even touch that chicken if you had prepared it?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two: Jesse**

"I think I'm feeling a little bit better, Amanda," he says.

"Mmmm," she says and lifts her head up from his chest, where it had been resting. "Really?"

"Yeah, despite that crappy meal."

"Well it seemed to put you to sleep. It couldn't have been that bad."

"Trust me, it was."

She grins.

"Perhaps it was this that relaxed me enough to fall sleep," he says softly and begins stroking her hair.

"Are you feeling good enough to move from this couch? Cause I really think we need to get you into bed so you can take your muscle relaxants soon and knock this thing out."

"Let's try."

She gets up off the floor where she had been sitting and helps him off the couch.

Despite claiming that he feels better, he makes noises getting up off of the couch and small whimpers all the way back to her bedroom. He leans on her for support the whole time. When they reach the bed she pulls his arm off of her shoulder and helps him to sit down on the edge.

"Do you have my little friend?" he asks her.

"Oh, right. Let me get it."

She returns to the bedroom with the heating pad and tosses it on the bed. "Just a sec. Don't get too cozy."

He sits there trying to ignore the pain. And then he sees the light on the baby monitor and hears it crackle. By some miracle it seems that Jesse had slept through dinner and now Amanda must be checking in on her. Frannie looks up from her dog bed and just as quickly goes back to sleep when it seems nothing of interest is going on.

He can hear Amanda talking to Jesse. She's speaking in a hushed tone, so the baby must still be asleep. But it seems she doesn't remember just how much that baby monitor amplifies everything.

He can hear her every word.

"Hey little girl. Your Momma's learning how to cook."

Carisi snorts.

"I've gotta take care of more than just you tonight baby girl. But I'll keep checking on you, okay?"

A pause.

"I wish that man was your father. It would make everything so much easier."

He gulps.

"You love him too, don't you Jesse?"


	3. Chapter 3

**I Care**

Amanda comes into the bedroom with a bottle of pills and a glass of water. He's looking down, smiling to himself.

"Here, take this."

He does and over the rim of the glass his blue eyes hold hers. He's got an odd expression on his face. Like he has a secret he's dying to share.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he says trying to sound nonchalant.

"Whatever," she says matching his tone. If he doesn't want to get into it . . . "Let's get you all set."

She helps him stand as she pulls back the sheets and gets the heating pad set up on the side of the bed she never sleeps on. Then she sits him back down and helps him get his legs up onto the bed as he leans back.

"Oh, not so much moaning and groaning now, eh?"

"I told you I was feeling better."

"Good." She smiles and takes off his shoes before getting him completely under the covers.

"Tucking me in, eh? I didn't take you for a softie."

"It's for your own good. Soon you're going feel like you belong on a boneless chicken farm."

He gives her a wry look.

"Don't give me that look. It always happens." She gets into bed on her side. "And you get a little wonky."

"Me, wonky?"

"Yeah, you walk that line every day even when you're not on meds."

"Are you calling me crazy?"

"Yeah, what else would I call you?"

"Point taken."

They smile at each other and then rest in silence for a while.

* * *

Jesse's screams pierce the night just as it seemed like Carisi was going to tell her something.

"Hold that thought. It's Jesse time." Amanda starts to get out of bed but he reaches for her hand.

"Bring her in here, okay?"

"Okay," she says, petting an awakened Frannie on her way towards the door. The dog follows her out.

* * *

"Hey," she reaches over and shakes him awake. "Looks like your meds are kicking in."

"No, no I'm here," he says groggily.

"I've got Jessie, but she's still being fussy."

He rolls over to his side to see baby Jesse squirming on the bed between them letting out little cries, but no longer screaming. He makes shushing noises and reaches over to pick her up.

Amanda grabs his arm, "No wait. Don't pick her up."

"Why?"

"Boneless chicken farm."

"Oh, yeah. Right." He sighs.

"Don't get frustrated. Just talk to her."

"Hey little girl. Little Jessie . . . "

She's still fussing.

"I'm going to tell you a secret."

He smiles devilishly into Amanda's eyes and then whispers to Jesse.

"I think your mom likes me."

"And here comes the loopiness . . . " Amanda rolls her eyes.

"Hey Jessie, shush shush." The baby quiets down a little bit. "It will be our little secret. Cause your mom won't tell anyone about it. But we know."

He looks up at Amanda and winks.

* * *

She puts Jesse back into her crib because she's fast asleep now. It's so pleasant watching her baby girl sleep. So peaceful. She wanders slowly back to her bedroom. To Carisi.

Surprised, she finds that he's still awake.

"I thought you'd be out by now."

"Nope, just waiting up for you."

"Really?" she asks, getting into bed, rolling over to face him. "Why?"

"For this."

He strokes her cheek and then pulls her in for a clumsy kiss. He really has gone boneless.

"You know I do Amanda, I do." His eyes are glassy.

"Do what?"

"I care."

"I know."

"No you don't." He is struggling against the curtain of sleep that is descending. "You don't."

She knows that anything he says past this point is going to be a mix of jumbled thoughts and feelings that make no sense. They've been here before.

"I . . ."

"Care . . ."

"Too . . ."

And then he is out.

FIN


End file.
